Squirrels

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JT
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Squirrels

Postby JT » Wed Mar 24, 2010 5:30 pm

Here's to my daily sickness;
I'm trying to kick hard
like your little brother
laid out on the street.

We're stuck in my crawl space.
I'm pumped up, punked out
bullets in a black hole.

You'll never leave.

Sunlight shines through shards,
wooden.
He came to pieces,
then just a tuft of fur.

Give me more benzoes,
your brother calls out,
screeching.
I'll kill you, defiant one.
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Mlou
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Postby Mlou » Fri Mar 26, 2010 1:22 pm

Sorry, JT, just completely beyond me. Don't know who the "you" of you'll never leave is. I like the sunlight line...why wooden? And who is "he" who came apart?
nothing is ever simply Yes or No. There's always a But...


GINGERBREAD MAN by Mary Lou Healy at Amazon.com http://www.publishamerica.com/shopping/ ... ogid=16658 at Publish America
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JT
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Postby JT » Fri Mar 26, 2010 3:55 pm

Mlou wrote:Sorry, JT, just completely beyond me. Don't know who the "you" of you'll never leave is. I like the sunlight line...why wooden? And who is "he" who came apart?


This was not intended to be so confusing. I have been fighting against a squirrel in my crawl space, rather than just fixing the roof. Then I saw a dead squirrel on the street. Day by day, it grew smaller until it was just a tuft of fur. At the same time, I have been going through benzodiazipine (Klonopin) withdrawal, voluntarily after having been legally prescribed a large dose for around six years. I had to go into a rehab to get clean from that stuff. Just look at wiki and you will see that this can be as hard as heroin withdrawal. In my strange mind I associated the squirrels as symbols of my addiction and this is what came out. The shards are from blowing holes in the roof above the crawl space. And the shards are wooden. So this is really about adiction and withdrawal. Wooden stands alone because that is how this drug has made me feel over the years.

Now, see how open us elderly people can be.

Miss you,
JT
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Mlou
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Postby Mlou » Fri Mar 26, 2010 7:36 pm

SQUIRREL INVASION

Here's to my daily sickness,
the pain of withdrawal...
I'm trying to kick it hard,
refuse to be like
your little squirrel brother
laid out there on the street.
He came to pieces,
then...just a tuft of fur.

We're stuck in my crawl space, you
and I, pumped up,
punked out,
bullets in a black hole.
Give me more benzoes,
your brother calls out
screeching,
an echo in my mind.

Sunlight shines through
the roof shards,
wooden, lifeless.

You'll never leave
unless I kill you,
defiant one.

Maybe if you put the lines in a different order, somewhat like this...feel free to slash it back to your staccato style :)...but do you discern a bit of a narrative line this way?
nothing is ever simply Yes or No. There's always a But...





GINGERBREAD MAN by Mary Lou Healy at Amazon.com http://www.publishamerica.com/shopping/ ... ogid=16658 at Publish America
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JT
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Postby JT » Sat Mar 27, 2010 6:59 pm

Wow, thanks for taking so much time. Yes, this is now understandable with your revisions. But, no, not my style. Hey, styles are made to be changed and the reader always rules. Thanks again, Mlou. I may revise it, but, if not, I hear your lesson for the future. JT
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LilacWine
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Postby LilacWine » Sun Mar 28, 2010 11:55 am

First of all JT, congrats on taking on your addiction. I applaud your bravery and offer my best wishes for your future.

As to the poem, I like the conception but the execution could benefit from some editing as Mlou suggests, just to make it clearer to the reader.
"I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear." -- Joan Didion (1934 - )

~Pamela~
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mae
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Postby mae » Tue Mar 30, 2010 10:46 am

Hello, JT. Yes, mlou's rearrangement makes it much clearer, though your explanation was still necessary for a full understanding. I do have one comment, however, if you will allow. If it is wood, wouldn't it be splinters rather than shards, which usually refers to glass?


This is the second poem of yours I've read within the last few days and they are both dark and disturbing. (I call this one dark and disturbing because at first it sounded to me as though you had shot someone from your crawlspace in drugged-up craziness. I didn't understand that "brother" referred to a squirrel.) Your explanation of your addiction to a prescription drug was most helpful in understanding where you're coming from with this darkness.

I wish you the best. mae
My heart beats in poetry. I think in rhythm and dream in rhyme.

Give me a crit! I can take it!

CELTIC QUEEN, an Epic Poem, Cynthia M. Bateman, amazon.com, barnesandnoble.com, http://www.tatepublishing.com/bookstore ... +Epic+Poem at Tate Publishing
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JT
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Postby JT » Fri Apr 23, 2010 4:11 pm

mae wrote:If it is wood, wouldn't it be splinters rather than shards, which usually refers to glass?

This is the second poem of yours I've read within the last few days and they are both dark and disturbing.


Have you ever seen a tree felled by lightning with long jagged shards sticking from the base? This is what I had in mind, though splintered in the context here is probably better.

I just posted a light-hearted little poem based upon your comment, but you know how much I like to explore the dark and disturbing.

Thanks mae - my best to you as well. JT

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